


Mindscape Roommates

by zara2148



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Existential Angst, F/F, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sassy Dipper, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:50:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2297186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zara2148/pseuds/zara2148
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU off Sock Opera, with spoilers naturally.</p>
<p>The damage Dipper's body has undergone kills it, leaving Dipper stranded in the mindscape with only Bill Cipher for company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Our Hero Is Dead (Welcome To Eternity)

As Bill was ejected out of his body, crying “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!” like it was a ride he hadn’t signed up for, Dipper rushed back to take control.

Only to have his body remain non-responsive.

“What?” He wasn’t even back in his original body, merely floating in its spot with the lower half of his body hidden inside it. He kneeled and then plunged his arms inside of it, hoping that some force would suck him back in. “No, no, no, no,” he muttered before standing back up. “Ugh, what is wrong here?!”

He didn’t register the high-pitched demonic laughter coming from all around him, omnipresent now with Bill Cipher’s return to the mindscape. The colors around him began to grey slightly, but Dipper shook his head and they returned to normal.

“Dipper…” Mabel ventured cautiously, as the audience began to whisper among themselves and ask what was happening, what should we do, did we leave the stove on? Grunkle Stan was putting his video camera away, experience telling him he was about to receive a sucker punch.

“Dipper?” Mabel tried again as she walked over, kneeling next to his body. “Bro bro? Are you asleep?” She shook his shoulder, but he didn’t respond.

“Come on, Dipper, we won.” She shook him harder. “You need to get up so I can tell you how stupid I was, like it’s news to you.” She stopped shaking him as the chill from Dipper’s body penetrated through his clothes. Something was seriously wrong here.

She didn’t even get out the first syllable of “Grunkle Stan!” before he was up on the stage beside her, fingering Dipper’s wrist. Even if she had got the full sentence out, it’s doubtful he would have heard, broken as her voice suddenly was.

Dipper could only watch unseen as his Grunkle’s face paled before setting into grim determination. Stan handed Mabel the car keys. “Mabel, go get the car running. Now!”

“Is that really the best idea?” Dipper asked as his sister ran off, trying to drown out thoughts of This isn’t happening, this happening, this isn’t happening by picturing the damage Mabel could do with a car.

The demonic laughter had stopped by now, not out of compassion but curiosity as to what would happen next.

Stan carefully picked Dipper’s body up, cradling it. Seeing the theater was still packed with gawking audience members, he snapped at them, “Well, what are you waiting for? Show’s over, everybody can go home!”

There were disgruntled mutterings as patrons filed out, Wendy and Soos making their way to Stan, who was speed-walking to avoid jostling Dipper’s body unnecessarily.

When the three reached the car, Stan handed Dipper off to Soos. “Hold onto him tightly. I’m about to break road laws that haven’t even been invented.”

“Dude, that doesn’t even make sense.” But Soos got into the back with Dipper with surprising care, not even hitting Dipper’s head on the doorframe like might be expected. Wendy got in on the other side, Mabel having already taken shotgun as Stan took the driver’s seat. Dipper floated in, taking a seat between Wendy and Soos.

“Everybody buckle up!” Mabel cried as Stan took off at speeds that would certainly inspire new road laws, if not break any that weren’t in existence.

Dipper’s spirit phased out of the car, watching it speed off without him. Sighing, he floated off in the general direction they were headed. He found the car at Gravity Falls General Hospital, parked lengthwise so it took up three parking spaces.

“Good old Grunkle Stan,” he muttered, unaware of the added presence following him.

With no way to ask the receptionist for help, Dipper had to float through each room individually. Eventually, he found them in the critical ward. A doctor was pulling a sheet over his body, which was resting on an examination table. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do.”

“What?!” Dipper yelled. But no one answered.

“No!” Mabel gasped, throwing herself on what was now officially his corpse. Silent tears leaked out of Wendy’s eyes while Soos bawled without shame.

Stan glared at the doctor. “What are you, some kind of quack? I demand to see a real doctor! So get out of here and don’t come back until you find someone who can save my nephew!” The last part was said with a hitch in his voice.

The doctor was clearly unruffled, well-used to irrational family members. “I will give you a few minutes alone. I apologize for your loss.”

“Yeah, beat it! And get that real doctor up here!” Stan cried after him. Then he sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose.

Soos’ cries intensified, joined now by Mabel’s sobs. Wendy had collapsed into a chair by the bedside, and Grunkle Stan… well, he looked lost for the first time that Dipper had known him, his features soft. Previously, there had always been a trace of acerbic wit that kept his face sharp, but that was gone now.

Dipper held his nonexistent face in his hands. “No, no, no, no, no, no! This can’t be happening. I can’t be dead!”

A voice came from behind him. “Sheesh, Pine Tree. You would think your body could take a little bit of internal bleeding and strange fluids filling your lungs.”

The world washed out once more to grays, the cries of his loved ones muted, as Dipper whipped his entire being around to meet the eye of Bill Cipher, floating before him unconcernedly.

“You! What are you doing here?” Dipper had tried for threatening anger, but his voice came out as squeaky and indignant at best.

Bill rolled his eye. “Is your memory that poor, kid? You saw me leave your body.”

“I meant here, as in the hospital. And you didn’t leave, you were kicked out.”

Bill waved a hand. “Details. And I’m here because all of you are.”

“What.” Dipper said flatly, growing of tired of saying that word so much tonight. But this crazy triangle wasn’t making any sense.

“Well, I was going to do the whole you-haven’t-seen-the-last-of-me-slash-we’ll-meet-again speech. Then maybe terrorize you a bit. But all of you just left the theater, so what was I supposed to do?” he finished with a whine.

Dipper didn’t answer, a trace of color leeching back into his view as he watched the people closest to him struggle to accept what had happened,. Even Grunkle Stan’s eyes were looking shiny.

Bill hummed. “Hey, Pine Tree? Why did they put a tablecloth on you? Are they going to use your bones for a table now?”

Dipper wasn’t paying attention. He glared at Bill with eyes of hatred. “You. This is all your fault,” he hissed. Stressed beyond rational thought, Dipper lunged for the dream demon.

But Bill raised a hand, stopping him in midair. Dipper wriggled, but couldn’t get out of the invisible hold.

“Oh, Pine Tree, you must still be catching up to what’s happening. Because I know you can’t be trying to start something with me, RIGHT?” On the last word Bill expanded to where his eye dwarfed Dipper, his body briefly turning red. Then he shrank back down to his preferred size and color, and with another wave of his hand released Dipper.

Instead of falling down and smacking the floor like he expected, Dipper remained floating where he was. He swallowed what remained of his self-preservation, screaming away in his head. “And what is the worst you can do to me? I’m already dead.”

“You’re not quite dead, Pine Tree.”

A spark of hope flared within him. “Really?”

Gleeful laughter met his ears. “Oh, your body’s kaput, and there’s no way of fixing that.” Dipper’s face fell. “But see, you didn’t actually die properly.”

“What do you mean,” he began cautiously, but Bill ignored him.

“As for what I could do to you, the possibilities are endless. But perhaps the absolute worst is…” Here Bill trailed off and turned his back on Dipper.

Dipper once more became aware of the sobs filling the room, all the color crashing back into his view. The cries were dying down slightly as Soos and Mabel began to tire themselves out.

“Bill?” Bill hummed, not answering. But Dipper was persistent. “What did you mean I haven’t died properly?”

Still no answer, Bill examining his hands as he debated the merits of nails. On the one hand, they broke easily, but on the other hand they were made of dead things and easily hammerable!

Stan was gathering everybody else together, herding Soos and Mabel out as Wendy managed enough sense of self to follow on her own.

“No, guys, wait!” Dipper called out automatically, forgetting himself enough to be disappointed when they didn’t listen.

“Bill!” he cried hysterically, barely noticing as color once more wilted from the world. Bill tried to side-eye him discreetly without completely turning, but the effect was ruined by the fact that he had to twist his body into a taper because of his single eye.

“Bill,” he repeated now that he had the demon’s attention. “What did you mean I didn’t die properly?”

Bill cleared his throat before speaking, simply for the satisfying sound of doing so. “Now see, that’s the worst I can do to you.”

Dipper stared in confusion at the non-sequitur. Before he could repeat his question, Bill’s eye crinkled up into a smile before continuing. “I can just not talk to you.”

“See, Pine Tree, you weren’t in your feeble body when it gave out, so you didn’t die with it. You were here, so now you’re stuck here without a way to leave. You’re not even a real ghost, kid. And what’s left of your body is apparently doomed to become a table.”

With this, Dipper had just been pushed beyond screaming, his mouth hanging open. Bill laughed at his expression, but Dipper didn’t care.

Eventually, Dipper found his voice. “I’m as trapped here as you are.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yep!” said Bill in a voice far too chipper for someone just reminded that they were trapped in a grey world forever. “More so, actually.”

Bill slung an arm around Dipper’s shoulder, only holding on tighter when Dipper tried to shrug it off. “Pine Tree, welcome to eternity. Hey, cool, that rhymed!”


	2. Fare Thee Well (Please Don't Leave Me Alone)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill´s plans are vaguely hinted at. Dipper gets snarky, depressed and realizes that everything really is different now, not necessarily in that order. Mabel invents the portmanteau of Blamabel, and is the secret star of this chapter. And Bill really needs to recognize when people are trying to mourn, you crazy floating triangle! Also, the Pines´parents make their first and probably only appearance.

As Pine Tree floated out to make the slow way back to his friends and family at the Mystery Shack, Bill remained where he was, glancing down at the kid’s soon-to-be-tabled body.

“Well, this was unexpected.”

Another Bill grew out of him to pipe up with a, “Yes, but think of the possibilities.”

A nod. “Pine Tree is always fun to play with.”

“And this way, playtime will never end!”

The first Bill grew somber. “But he can’t be allowed to interfere with my plans. He won’t let pesky death stop him from investigating.”

The second Bill grew reflective, a hand to his nonexistent chin. “No, but surely he can be distracted. Compromised.”

"Use his human weaknesses against him?”

A third Bill sprung up between them. “Whee, puppet strings!”

“Exactly!” The other two said in unison.

The original Bill patted them both on the back. “All right, good talk everyone.” He re-assimilated them as he teleported out of the hospital to the shack.

***

Dipper arrived at the Mystery Shack to find all the lights on, despite the hour. Phasing through the outer walls into the kitchen, he found Stan standing alone with the phone in hand, dial tone droning as Stan’s fingers hovered above the buttons.

With a sigh, Stan replaced the phone on the cradle. “Ah, forget it. Real life can wait until tomorrow.”

A quick poke through the wall into the living room showed it to be empty – Soos and Wendy must have left for their homes.

The sound of his sister’s crying floated down from upstairs. Ignoring the steps, Dipper phased through the ceiling into their bedroom, expecting to find Mabel with her head buried into a pillow.

She was, but she was in his bed, face buried into his pillow. Waddles was beside her, Mabel’s right arm wrapped around his middle.

Mabel took a quick break from her crying to breathe, only to then resume with added intensity. “Waddles, it’s all my fault,” she panted in between sobs. “I’m to blame. My name even anagrams to blame!”

Waddles snuffled and cuddled up closer.

“Mabel…” Dipper breathed. He floated over and lowered himself to the edge of the bed by Waddles, giving the illusion that he was sitting by his sister.

As she muttered “Blamabel,” to herself, he reached out a hand to stroke her hair, hoping she would somehow feel it.

She showed no reaction to his touch, but eventually she tired herself out with her sobs, falling into a jerky sleep as Waddles followed after her.

Dipper sighed and managed to force on a smile that no one could see. “Sleep well, Mabel,” he said with a pat to her shoulder.

There was a sound of footsteps on the stairs, and the door creaked open as Grunkle Stan peeked in, his face somehow more wrinkly than before.

“Good, she’s finally asleep,” he whispered to himself. He reached out to turn off the lights that were still on. Stan watched Mabel’s chest rise and fall before he sighed. “I’m sorry, Mabel. I don’t know how to deal with this any better than you do.”

“Grunkle Stan…” Dipper began, but the old man had already turned his back and shut the door. Dipper sighed again.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting anything?”

The world washed out to grays as Dipper managed a weak glare at Bill. “And what have you been up to? Did you follow me back from the hospital and wait to make a dramatic entrance?”

An eye roll. “Please, Pine Tree. I may like you, but I have a life outside of you. I’ve just been around.”

“Great, mind going back there and leaving me alone?”

Bill twirled his cane and floated closer to him. “Actually, since we’re going to be living together, sharing the same plane of reality and everything, we should to get to know each other better.” He poked Dipper in the cheek. “Whaddya say, roomie? Anything you have to share?”

Dipper stifled the urge to push Bill away like a 5-year-old having a tantrum. Instead he stood up and floated higher.

“Ha, ‘living together?’ You killed me. I want nothing to do with you, so get that through your pointy head. Do me a favor and stay away from me.” He leaned in close to Bill. “And that’s all I have to share with you.”

Dipper thought Bill looked more orange than he did a few moments ago, but the demon’s voice was as chipper as ever when he replied, “All right!” and vanished.

Dipper remained floating where he was, waiting for Bill to reappear with a grin shouting, “Just kidding!” When that didn’t happen, he glanced at his slumbering sister. “That was too easy.”

When Bill still didn’t reappear with a “You bet it was!” Dipper finally relaxed. He reached over to his bedside table where Mabel had set down Journal 3, after carrying it around with her all night.

His hand went right through it.

Dipper grimaced. “Right, that. This is going to take some getting used to.” He crossed his legs and levitated himself higher, thinking of ways to pass the time.

“Can’t read, don’t feel sleepy, no one to talk to…” He glanced through the window out at the stars, but thought about the moon becoming Bill’s eye and decided against stargazing.

Besides, he didn’t want to leave Mabel’s side.

Lying back so he was almost horizontal in the air, Dipper remembered the counting game he and Mabel used to play when they were younger and trapped in a car on road trips. The two of them would try to count as high as they could, as fast as they could.

Skipping a number or hesitating too long were automatic losses; Dipper tended to walk away the victor.

He glanced at the clock reading 1:10 and sighed for the umpteenth time that night. “1, 2, 3, 4…”

***

Dipper was past 1531 when the sun finally started to rise over Gravity Falls, 2289 when he could hear Stan clearly moving about, and 2563 when Mabel blinked with a groan before rising from his bed.

“Morning, Dipper!” she chirped before her face caught up to the events of last night and crumpled. For a second it looked to Dipper like she would break down crying again. But she stood there with her lip quivering before managing a pat to her knee and a forlorn, “Come on, Waddles,” as she padded out of the room, Waddles and Dipper following after.

Stan looked at her over the rim of his coffee cup as Mabel walked into the kitchen, holding back a comment about bag checks. It hadn’t been funny the first time, anyway.

He waited until Mabel sat down, dropping her head onto the kitchen table in the process, before he set down his coffee cup. He cleared his throat, and cleared it again when Mabel didn’t look at him. Giving it up when she still didn’t look at him, he began speaking.

“So, I’ll be calling your parents today, to tell them what happened. And before I do, I would like you to tell me what happened.”

Mabel raised her head enough to glance at him, before letting it re-succumb to gravity. “Noth-“

“Don’t even try to finish that word.” Stan looked hard at her for a few seconds before speaking again.

“Dipper is dead.” Both Mabel and Dipper winced at the blunt statement. “And I’m going to have to take responsibility for that. I would like to know what to tell them, or as I suspect the case to be, what not to tell them.”

Now Mabel’s eyes were welling up with tears again. “It’s not your responsibility,” she whispered.

“Say that again, kid?”

She jolted upward in her chair with sudden energy. “It’s not your fault, it’s mine! I’m the reason Dipper sold his soul to a triangle!”

“Wait, what. Back up, sit down.” Mabel tried to do both and nearly tipped over her chair. Stan’s body tensed to grab her if needed, but she successfully managed to settle in her seat.

Stan settled into his seat as well. “Now, what’s this about Faustian bargains?”

“Fowlian what?”

“I mean, what’s up with this deal for souls?”

Mabel drummed her fingers along the table, nervously grinning and glancing to the side. “Dipper made a deal with a demon for reasons that I can’t explain because it would mean telling you that he broke a promise to you.”

Dipper slapped his forehead, grateful to find he could do that much. “You just told him anyway.”

Stan was looming over everything in the kitchen now, never mind he fact that he was still sitting. “He made a deal because he got too curious, didn’t he?”

Mabel shrunk into her seat. “Yes,” she squeaked.

A fist was slammed down on the table. Mabel jumped. Dipper hovered higher.

“Dammit! Didn’t I warn that kid this town was dangerous? Didn’t I ask him to stay out of trouble? And what does he do? He goes and sells his soul!”

There wasn’t quite silence in the kitchen, but no one was talking to anyone else. Grunkle Stan was hunched over the table panting as he forcibly calmed himself down, Mabel’s lip was quivering and Dipper was staring at the floor, not looking at anyone.

Stan took another sip of his coffee when the panting had passed. “So do you know what the terms of the deal were? Maybe there’s a loophole…?”

Mabel shook her head, trying to calm down as well. “All I know is Bill was in Dipper’s body, and Dipper didn’t get the password he wanted.”

“The kid was acting weird last night, weirder than puberty could explain.” Another sip of his coffee, and he gave a wan smile. “Although that was normal for him.”

“Thanks, Grunkle Stan,” Dipper deadpanned. “I knew I could count on you to speak ill of the dead.”

Stan’s response was to take another sip of his coffee. Dipper was growing accustomed to being ignored – it wasn’t that different from being alive, really.

Mabel slumped. “Yeah, it was.” Her lip quivered again. “I was supposed to help him with the laptop password. If I hadn’t blown him off so much, he would still be here –”

Before Dipper could say anything, Stan had put a finger to Mabel’s lips. “I don’t want to ever hear you say that again. Agreed?”

Mabel glanced away. Stan’s finger remained on her lips.

“C’mon Mabel, this is getting awkward.”

“Agreed.” Stan took his finger away. Mabel glanced at it. “Please tell me you washed your hands today.”

“You know, I actually did.”

Mabel gave a weak laugh, and Dipper threw Grunkle Stan a grateful look.

Stan leaned back in his chair. “Mabel, what Dipper did wasn’t your fault. He was a young man capable of making his own choices, terrible though they were.”

Dipper’s glare at this lacked heat. “And we’re back to insulting me again. Great, thanks.”

“My point is, you can’t go around blaming yourself for your sibling’s mistakes.” Stan took a swig of his coffee, and made a face at how it had cooled. “Now what did you say his guy’s name was?”

“Bill. Bill Cipher.”

“That’s terribly underwhelming.”

Mabel cocked her head like a birding dog. “So, you don’t know him?”

“Can’t say I do.”

“Yeah, he only tried to wreck your mind, why would you know him,” Dipper muttered.

Mabel took up the charge for him. “But he was in your brain. We fought him to get out! With synthesized pop and the power of kittens.”

Stan cocked a gray brow at her. “I think I would remember that.”

“Would you?”

Stan was silent.

Mabel continued softly, “And we wouldn’t have saved you if it hadn’t been for Dipper.”

Stan bowed his head, then pushed his chair away from the table to stand up. “I’m going to go call your parents. And I will tell them anything but that their foolish, brilliant son made a deal with a… what was he?”

“An isosceles triangle.”

“Yeah, that.”

Stan made the call while Mabel made herself a quick breakfast of toast. Dipper caught sounds of crying, his mother’s voice coming through the phone sounding so much like Mabel’s.

“Yes, yes. If you think that best. I’ll see you then. Yes, goodbye.” Stan replaced the phone on the cradle and turned to Mabel, who had sat back down with her toast.

“Your parents are coming up here. They thought it would be easier to hold the funeral here. They’ll arrive in a few days.”

Mabel nodded, spreading Mabel JamTM on her toast. A mix of boysenberry, blackberry, strawberry and grape, Mabel JamTM managed to taste like none of them.

Stan sighed, muttering, “It’s not even noon and I need a drink,” as he left the kitchen. Dipper floated down to the seat he had vacated and watched his sister spread as even a coat of Mabel JamTM as she could.

After a few minutes of playing with her toast, she sighed and set the plate of food on the floor. Waddles came waddling up, snuffling as he devoured the rejected breakfast.

Mabel thumped her head back onto the kitchen table, and Dipper watched the dappled sunlight filtering in through the kitchen window.

***

Mabel was quiet that day. Dipper had never seen her this quiet, this still before. Always, his sister was full of life, ready with a joke or a smile or an inane statement.

He hoped she wasn’t letting that die with him.

Grenda and Candy did stop by, and Mabel perked up enough to form coherent sentences rather than repeat fragments like “Dipper,” “Puppets,” and “Blamabel.” But neither of them wanted to stick around long. They’re her friends, but when their attempts at supporting Mabel and cheering her up with girly girl stuff failed to rouse even a small smile, they dully tell Mabel, “Bye,” and promise to come by the next day.

The liveliest Mabel acted was when Gabe showed up, although not in a way Dipper could have predicted. She had skipped lunch, though, and lack of food had always affected her more than it did him…

She had mustered the energy to answer the doorbell, and her eyes had widened at the boy on her porch. “Gabe!”

“Oh, great,” Dipper muttered from where he floated beside her.

“Hello, Mabel.”

Mabel didn’t lean against the doorframe flirtatiously, didn’t bat her eyelashes at him, didn’t make any sort of overt move. But she did watch him intently. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I heard about what happened last night. And I just wanted to let you know that it’s okay.”

“Really?” The hope in Mabel’s voice was painful for Dipper to hear.

“Yes. You must have been up all night worrying, but you don’t have to worry anymore. I made sure to grab your puppets before the crowds could do any harm to them.”

“Oh.” Mabel’s eyes were welling up, and Gabe took this as a sign of shame at forgetting her puppets.

“I still can’t believe you left them behind,” he said with a grin straight out of an ad for teeth-whitener. “So, do you have any thoughts on your next puppet show? It’s our duty as puppeteers to perform, perform, perform, and to never let our art down –”

The slap to his cheek was a light one, not the hardest slap Mabel had ever given a guy. It was still enough to stop Gabe’s train of thought, as Dipper watched with wide eyes.

“Gabe,” she began, her tears free-flowing. “I’m not actually puppet crazy. And I’m sorry it took me this long to admit it.”

Gabe drew himself up indignantly (Dipper reflected on how hard it is to look indignant when you’re ‘girly magazine cover’ material). “Well, I never!”

Mabel didn’t ask, “You never what?” Instead she headed back inside the house.

“You can keep the puppets. I don’t want them.”

Dipper floated after, oddly satisfied until he remembered he could have used a sock puppet to communicate with someone.

***

It was looking to be another long night for Dipper. Mabel was at least sleeping in her own bed tonight.

The counting game had been set aside in favor of his new problem, communication. There had to be some was to talk to Mabel. What he would say was another matter entirely, but he could figure the what out once he had the how taken care of.

“Let’s see… all of Mabel’s sock puppets are over at Gabe’s. I could try talking to him, but I don’t think he’d be that surprised by a puppet talking to him… and I don’t mean that in a good way. I could try stealing a puppet,” and the phrase tasted acidic on his tongue. “But wait, I don’t know where he lives.”

Dipper tried to flop himself onto his bed in frustration, but his body was still breaking the law of gravity and floated defiantly. He leaned his head back, and almost missed the resulting shadow movement on the wall by Mabel’s bed, cast by the moonlight.

Dipper sat up slowly. The shadow moved with him. He waved at it, and a mirror image waved back.

He let out a cry of excitement. “Yes, I have a shadow! This means I somehow have a corporal presence! I can talk to Mabel and tell her-” here he trailed off because there were too many things to tell her. Instead he rushed over to Mabel’s bedside.

“Mabel, wake up! It’s Dipper. I’m back!” She kept on snoring. He reached out to shake her. “Mabel!”

His arms went right though her.

Dipper’s insides felt scooped out, never mind that he didn’t technically have any. “What? I still can’t touch anything? But I have a shadow!”

Dipper glanced at it wildly. But as he watched, it began to fade before his eyes. “No… No!” His hand lunged for it, but it was gone before his fingers reached the wall and phased through.

Dipper’s lack of tear glands was the only reason he wasn’t crying. He swallowed a few times, before managing a “How?”

Dipper was more shocked by getting an answer than by who answered. “It happens sometimes when you’re focused intensely.”

He turned about the room, but it was completely devoid of glowing, yellow pyramids. He thought he saw another shadow that shouldn’t be there, a triangular one, out of the corner of his eyes. But it was gone when he looked again. He knew it had to have been there, thought.

There was silence then, Mabel’s snores having died down. It was too late for even chirping crickets to be out.

Dipper leaned his head back again and picked out patterns in the ceiling. “2564, 2565…”

***  
Grenda and Candy came by again briefly the next morning. That wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was Mabel’s other visitor: Pacifica Northwest.

When Grunkle Stan answered the door in his wife beater and boxers, she breezed past him into the entryway, wrinkling her nose out of habit. “Where’s Mabel?”

“In the kitchen.” Pacifica followed the smell of burnt bread. Grunkle Stan grumbled to himself, “And do go ahead and ignore me, because apparently I’m just the doorman in my own home.” Then he let the door slam and sat back down in front of the blaring TV, the Mystery Shack closed until after Dipper’s funeral.

Pacifica swept into the kitchen to see Mabel eating toast with rainbow sprinkles at 1:30 in the afternoon, still dressed in her pajamas. Dipper sat beside her unseen.

“And just what are you doing?”

“Eating,” Mabel said with a shrug.

“Finally,” Dipper added.

“I meant, what are you doing in those pajamas, with that hair.” Pacifica’s nose crinkled up again. “Neither of them looks like they’ve been washed in ages.”

Mabel chuckled hollowly. “Well, see, that’s the funny thing. They haven’t.”

Pacifica stared in dumbstruck horror as Mabel flushed, still eating her toast. Eventually she found her voice, though it had a strangled tone to it. “You’re going to finish your breakfast. Then you’re going to take a shower, get dressed in clean clothes and meet me outside. We’re going to town to do some shopping.”

Mabel did the bird-dog neck cock again. “For what?”

“Well, at the very least, you’ll need some new black clothes.”

Dipper glared at her as it looked like Mabel was going to cry again. But Pacifica reached over and flicked her forehead before she could.

“Ow! Why do you have such sharp nails?”

“No crying. You already look like you’ve done enough of that.” Pacifica crossed her arms and gave her a stern look. “Don’t tell me your brother would want you wallowing in your filth.”

Mabel’s voice was soft. “No.”

Pacifica uncrossed her arms. “Then get cleaned up. We leave in fifteen.” With that, Pacifica swept out the way she came.

Mabel looked confused as she finished her toast, but she went upstairs anyway. In a few seconds, the shower could be heard.

Dipper let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, out of habit rather than any need to breathe. “Well, Hurricane Pacifica just hit and I’m still alive.” He was glad talking to himself had always been a habit of his. Otherwise it might have been a sign he was going crazy.

He rose from the table. “I guess I’ll go join Grunkle Stan then until Mabel gets back from her girl time.” He braced himself for the British classic “An English Gentleman’s Proposals and Rejections.”

He carefully ignored the triangle shadow he spotted briefly out of the corner of his eye.

***

It was long since dark when Mabel returned, loaded down with bags. Dipper watched her approach through a window, before remembering he could just stick his head through the glass.

Mabel panted as she approached the shack. “Oof, Pacifica. Did you have to buy me so many clothes?”

“It’s only because so much of your wardrobe is trash. You deserve better.”

“Thanks, I think.”

Mabel awkwardly waved as she opened the front door, careful not to drop her purchases. Then she wrestled them up the stairs to the bedroom, Dipper floating behind her. Though her face fell at the empty room, it didn’t quite erase the almost happy aura she had prior.

As Mabel climbed into bed, a smile drifted across her face, before it was swallowed up by pure exhaustion.

Dipper floated by the room’s triangular window, trying to feel purely glad that his sister remembered how to smile, without the painful twinge that came from being easily replaced.

Dipper didn’t bother counting, phasing instead through the window. He glanced up at the stars twinkling down at him, before focusing on the road to the Mystery Shack.

The road his parents would drive up tomorrow after coming from the airport.

He tried to convince himself, as the scenery around him slowly brightened with dawn, that it was out of paranoia that he was jumping at moving shadows, and not out of a strange mix of curiosity, excitement and relief.

***

His parents drove up to the shack at 10:21. Despite being family, his mother knocked on the front door while his father unloaded the luggage.

Dipper phased out onto the porch, watching his father struggle with the luggage.

Stan opened the door, fortunately in his business suit. “Lorraine?”

“Stan!” His mother crushed his Grunkle to herself in an enthusiastic hug lacking any real enthusiasm.

Stan tried to recover with dignity when he was released, but none of it changed the fact that he had been ambushed by a woman whose head barely came to his shoulders.

Lorraine looked at Stan with a too wide grin. “How’s Mabel?”

Stan shrugged awkwardly. “She’s in the kitchen. She actually mustered the energy to make pancakes today, rather than just toast.”

“I see.” His mother’s fake smile got wider, a sure sign of how uncomfortable she was, as in the background his father grunted with the effort of lifting his mother’s trunk.

“Have you told her? About after the funeral tomorrow, that is?”

“Uh, no. I thought it would be best if you told her. You know, it meaning more coming from her parents rather than her Grunkle.”

His mother cocked her head. “Grunkle?”

Stan waved a hand. “It’s what the twins called me. I don’t know which of them came up with it.”

“Ah. Oh, good, George, you got the car unpacked.” His mother lifted up the trunk his father had struggled with by one handle, then turned back to Stan.

She then spoke in an undertone, as if there were spies all around them (Dipper tried not to count himself as one). “Before we go inside, could we talk a bit? About what happened?”

The sigh that came from Stan was dredged up from his bone marrow. “Yeah, sure.”

His parents and Stan sat on the porch steps. Dipper glanced in the direction of the kitchen, but remained where he was to listen.

Tears were slipping out of his mother’s eyes now, his father drawing an arm around her shoulders as Stan looked away. It took a few moments for Lorraine to swallow the blob in her throat enough to speak. “How did it happen? You didn’t go into detail over the phone.”

“Yeah, that’s because I still don’t know much of the details myself.” Stan scratched the back of his neck. “All I can tell you is that Dipper got into a fight with someone he couldn’t beat.”

His mother sobbed loudly now at the image of her son being beaten to death. A rare look of guilt flashed across Stan’s face. His knuckles whitened as he strangled his golden-topped cane.

“Listen… I’m sorry about all this. You trusted me with your children, and I failed them. This entire summer I’ve been warning those kids off, telling them that it’s not the city they’re used to. But I should have done more than that. I should have been able to stop this.”

Dipper stared at Grunkle Stan, amazed he could apologize for anything, let alone do so almost eloquently.

His mother continued sobbing, but his father shook his head. “No, Dipper always was the independent, free-thinking sort. I’m sure you did everything you could with him.”

“It still wasn’t enough,” Stan muttered.

When his mother had gotten her sobbing under control, the three of them proceeded inside. Dipper took a shortcut through the walls and beat them to the kitchen.

Mabel looked up from her third glass of Mabel Juice, as Dipper plopped himself into a seat next to her. “Mom! Dad!”

“Hi, sweetie,” her father said with a pained smile. He’d have to get used to only one child saying that now. Lorraine kneeled and hugged Mabel tightly.

Stan let out a nervous guffaw. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you guys alone to catch up. I’ve got stuff to do. Yeah… stuff.” He sidled out of the kitchen quickly.

Releasing Mabel, his mother gave her a quick Eskimo kiss before standing up. His father sat down in the chair Dipper had grabbed, leading to Dipper phasing out through the wooden backing with what little dignity he had left. His mother and Mabel grabbed the remaining two chairs. Dipper floated by the table at eye level.

Their mother placed a hand over Mabel’s. “We talked to Stan, and he said you seem to be doing better.”

Mabel shrugged. “I’m managing.”

“Good.” Their mother’s hand tightened around Mabel’s, the strained smile back. “But, well, your father and I have been talking, and we think it’s for the best if you come back with us after the funeral.”

Mabel stood up in her seat. “What?!”

Dipper was tired of crying “What?” and just gave everyone a wide-eyed stare.

“But there’s still so much summer left!” Mabel cried.

“Only a few weeks,” their father said in that patented reasonable-and-paternal tone he had. “And with everything’s that happened –”

“-we’d feel it be better if you were at home to adjust,” their mother finished.

“But… but… what about Waddles?”

Waddles squealed from at their feet.

“Sweetheart, we don’t have room for a pig back home,” their father said, still paternally reasonable.

“Stan should be able to take care of it,” her mother reassured Mabel.

Mabel looked between the two of them, waiting for a third voice to speak up without realizing it. “… okay. I’m going to go pack my things.”

She left the kitchen, leaving his parents to look anxiously at each other and for Dipper’s thoughts to go around in a loop.

Mabel was leaving.

Mabel was _leaving._

_Mabel was leaving._

***  
His dad took the couch to sleep on that night, while his mother slept in the shared bedroom with Mabel. As the two ladies snored in almost perfect sync, Dipper floated about Mabel, panicking.

“Okay, so Mabel is leaving tomorrow after my funeral. I have things I need to tell her. Can I follow her back, and try to figure something out? No, I’ve always had to float everywhere, and it would take weeks if not months to get home that way. So I have to think of something else, before tomorrow.”

The clock read 3:55. Dipper had only a few hours until dawn, and the funeral was scheduled for early in the day so his parents and Mabel could catch their flight.

His fingers snaked their way into his hair as he clutched at his head. “Think, Dipper, think!”

“Ready to talk to me yet, Pine Tree?”

Dipper glanced at the demon he’d been half-expecting to see. “I know you’ve been following me around, so there’s really no need for your timed entrances.”

“Aw, but that’s the point of following you. Besides, I haven’t been doing it all the time. Technically.”

Dipper cocked an eyebrow. “Technically?”

“I did watch the way they embalmed your body when I wasn’t watching you. Especially sucking out the blood without resorting to vampirism. Why you humans bury perfectly good body parts, though, I will never understand.”

Dipper crossed his arms and tried to look stern. “I’m going to assume you didn’t just come here to tell me that.”

“Well, no. I could go on about it, though.”

Dipper’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

“Why, I want to help.”

"Yeah, that never ends well. So no, not interested.” With that, Dipper turned his back on Bill, despite so many of his instincts screaming at him not to.

Bill wasn’t so easily deterred, suddenly floating in front of Dipper. “Remember that spell you used to enter your Grunkle Stan’s mind?”

Dipper saw he wasn’t getting out of this, and for the moment gave in. “Yeah. Well, I remember casting it. I don’t remember the words.”

“Well, that’s a pity. It’s a spell used to enter a dreamer’s consciousness.”

Dipper glanced at Mabel out of the corner of his eye, his main gaze remaining on Bill. “So, I could enter her dream if I knew it.”

Bill’s hand grew to the size of his body as he gave a thumbs up. “Yes,” he added unnecessarily.

“And, of course, I can’t touch the journal any more than you can.” Said journal was still on the bedside table, not packed with the rest of Mabel’s things. “So why tell me that?”

“Because I know the spell off the top of my head.” Bill’s pointy tip fell off and was caught in his left hand. He placed it back, his hat having somehow stayed in place.

Dipper’s glare was too puppyish to be intimidating. “Whatever you want, you’re not getting it.”

“Aw, but Pine Tree, it’s such a small thing I’d ask for.”

“That’s what you said about the last seemingly harmless request. And, oh yeah, I’m dead because of it!” He stamped a foot. “The answer is NO!”

“Pine Tree, are you trying to start a shouting match? Because I can scream so much LOUDER.” On that last word his sclera flamed blue as his voice deepened. “Besides, what I want is such a tiny thing, it’ll cost you nothing. I just want to spend a day with you.”

Dipper’s glare melted away to wary confusion. “Why?”

“As I said, we’re sharing the same plane of reality now. We’re like two roommates. So we have to do roommate-y things like go out on the town, fight over whose turn it is to wash the dishes and take out the trash, and of course steal each other’s clothes.”

“Okay, first, what kind of bad sitcoms do you watch –”

“The BEST, obviously,” he said with cold demonic inflection.

“-second, we don’t have trash or dirty dishes to fight over –”

Bill snapped his fingers, and an overflowing trash can of dishes appeared. “Now we do!”

“- and third, what do you want with my clothes?”

“Oh, I wasn’t going to take yours. But you’re welcome to a bowtie or two of mine, if you ever want to upgrade that dorky outfit you always wear.”

“And what’s so dorky about –” Dipper held up a hand to physically stop himself. “You know what, it’s not important.” He carefully looked over Bill, wishing it wasn’t so hard to read a triangle. “So, all you want is to spend a day with me.”

Bill’s eye crinkled up into a smirk. “Yep.”

“And this isn’t going to come back to bite me in a “The Paw of the Monkey” kind of way?”

“I’ve never heard of a biting monkey’s paw, so yes.” Bill stroked his non-existent chin. “Although if one exists, I’d want it.”

Dipper was far too used to Mabel to let conversation tangents derail him. “And if I still say no? If I decide I’d rather follow Mabel to figure things out on my own?”

Bill’s chuckle sounded more like he was saying “Haha” over and over again than an actual laugh. “Good luck trying to leave town, kid.”

Dipper filed that away to ask about later. There was no time now with dawn approaching.

He pointed at the demon, directing Bill’s attention back to him and away from monkey’s paws with teeth. “Say it.”

“It.”

Dipper let out a groan. “No, no. Say this: I promise to tell Dipper Pines how to communicate with his sister in her dreams, and that doing so will bring no harm to her. In return, I expect Dipper Pines to spend a day with me.”

“Yada, yada, I promise no double-crossing in creative ways.” Bill held out a flaming blue hand. “Now come on, make the deal.”

Dipper sill hesitated, staring at the hand. Then he sighed. “I’m going to regret this.”

He grabbed Bill’s hand.

Nothing dramatic happened. The roof didn’t suddenly rip off to reveal a gaping maw waiting to swallow them all. His sister and mother continued to snore softly. The flames on Bill’s hand went out and the demon pulled away. Dipper squelched down on the part of him that missed the brief, warm contact.

Bill remained close, hovering. “‘Fidentus omnium. Magister mentium. Magnesium ad hominem. Magnum opus. Habeas corpus. Inceptus Nolanus overratus. Magister mentium. Magister mentium. Magister mentium.’ That’s your spell.”

“Okay, I think I can just about remember all that.” Dipper floated over to his sister, only to shoot Bill a scowl as the demon kept hovering by his shoulder. “Do you mind giving us some privacy?”

“Fine. Go have a secret talk with your sister. See if I care.” Bill turned his cane into a paddle-bat-and-ball. “I’ll be here, having fun without you.”

“O-kay. Well then…” Dipper placed his hand on Mabel’s forehead, and repeated the spell. His eyes glowed before he was sucked into Mabel’s dreams.

Much to his lack of surprise, it looked like something a girl’s jewelry store would throw up, with lots of pinks and sparkles. But as Dipper took a closer look, he saw damage had been taken. Cracks ran across the pink ground and up pink cliffs, some of them deep enough that Dipper wouldn’t want to fall into them for fear of never getting out. The landscape also looked chipped, pink peeling away to show gray underneath.

“Mabel!” he cried out, not knowing where to look for her in all this pink. “Mabel!”

“Dipper?”

He watched as his sister coalesced out of the air before him, appearing in a shower of sparkles. “Dipper!” She had tackled him in a hug before the sparkles had finished landing. “It’s you! It’s you!”

“Yeah, Mabel, it’s me.” He squeezed her back gave her hair a quick ruffle before pushing her off of him. “Listen, Mabel, I need to talk to you about some stuff.”

She straightened up and put on her serious face. “What? What is it?”

“Okay, this is really important Mabel. When you leave tomorrow, you need to take the journal with you.”

Her birding-dog head tilt again. Even in her dreams, she did it. “You want me to take the journal out of Gravity Falls?”

“Yes! That journal is the key to unlocking so many of the other mysteries in Gravity Falls. It cannot be allowed to fall into the wrong hands or put at risk for being destroyed.”

Mabel nodded, slowly before picking up speed like a bobble head. “Okay. And what about you? Is that why you’re still here? To tell me about the journal before moving on to the Great Fridge Bulb in the Sky?”

Oh, if only it were that simple. Dipper didn’t even know if that was an option for him. “No, Mabel. I’ve got to stay here and solve the mysteries of Gravity Falls.”

“Dipper!” Mabel grabbed onto his hand. “Don’t! That’s what got you killed!” She blew a loose hair out of her face. “Why must you be so stubborn even in death?”

“It’s not just about me, Mabel. I know Bill Cipher is planning something that’s probably going to involve this whole town. If I can find out what it is, then maybe I can stop him.” It was only as he said it that Dipper realized this was true. Dead or not, he still had a purpose. He didn’t need to mention to Mabel, though, that the best way to do this might just be by getting closer to Bill Cipher.

And he tried and succeeded at resisting the urge to hum the Mission Impossible theme song. Silly urge quelled, he continued. “No matter what happens to me, the journal needs to be safe. And I trust you to protect it.”

“You shouldn’t.”

Dipper squeezed her just tight enough to be reassuring, and not suffocating. “Mabel, you need to listen to everyone else. What happened to me wasn’t your fault.”

She let out a gasp. “How do you know about that?”

He winked. “Hey, I’m a ghost on a mission. It’s my job to know these things.”

“Dork.” She rapped his head, and the two of them laughed.

Mabel’s face quickly morphed into an expression more serious than her standard serious face. “But, Dipper… I don’t to leave Gravity Falls without you.”

“You’re my sister, Mabel. I’ll never leave you.”

She grinned at him. “Aww, you’re getting all corny because of me.”

“Hey! Don’t forget who’s really the corny one of us.”

They laughed again, until another voice rang out. “Mabel?”

“Mom?” they said in unison.

“Mabel, it’s time to wake up.”

The world shook and faded away to white. Then Dipper found himself back in their bedroom, flying out of Mabel’s body.

“Mom,” Mabel muttered as her eyes flew open.

“Yes, it’s me. Mabel, we have to get ready.”

“Just a sec.” Leaping out of bed, Mabel raced over to where Journal 3 rested on the bedside table. “I have to pack this with my stuff.”

“Okay, just don’t take too long.”

Dipper floated outside to give them privacy to get dressed, enjoying the sunlit forestry for the first time in days. Both the journal and Mabel would be safe out of Gravity Falls by the end of the day.

“Have a good talk, Pine Tree?”

Dipper tilted his head back to look up at Bill, starting to get used to his smug entrances. “Yes, actually.” A sigh. “I guess you want to talk about your end of the deal. So, when do you want to spend time together?”

“Now.”

“Now?!” Dipper’s head shot up to turn and look at him properly. “But my funeral’s in a bit!”

“So? We can go to that together. It sounds like a wonderful bonding experience.”

“If I ever forget that you’re the reason I’m having one?” A snort. “Yeah, I suppose then it could be.”

“Yeesh, Pine Tree. You’re stubborn. But I kind of like that about you!” Bill coughed, then his eye narrowed as he scrutinized the boy in front of him. Specifically his trademark dorky outfit.

“But we can’t have you going to a funeral looking like that. It’s a classy affair! Even the corpse is dressed up.” He grabbed Dipper’s hand and dragged him off into the forest. “C’mon, I’ll help you pick out a bowtie!”

Dipper, used to being dragged around by his sister for similar reasons, was only slightly thrown. “Is there any way I can say ‘No?’”

Bill stopped in a clearing and conjured up a bow tie. Red. “Not with the deal you made!”

Dipper bit his cheek to hold back a groan. “I knew I’d regret this.” He let go of his cheek as a realization hit him. “Wait, the deal said nothing about letting you bowtie me.”

Bill dismissed the red bowtie and conjured up a black one. “No creative double-crosses that go against the spirit of the deal. That was the deal exactly.”

“That was to help me, not you.”

Apparently Bill didn’t like the black either, and summoned an orange one. Dipper didn’t even know bowties came in orange.

Bill’s eye crinkled in victory. “Compromises go both ways, Pine Tree.” He looked at the bowtie, and dismissed it in all its orange-ness. “Hmm, speaking of… maybe this will work.” This time the bowtie he summoned was orange with black stripes. He held it up against Dipper’s shirt. The bowtie was a slightly darker orange that blended with it nicely, while the black accented it against the lighter background. “What do you think?”

Frankly, Dipper was surprised he even got a say. “I feel like Tigger, but I also don’t care anymore if it means we can go.”

“Close enough!” And with a snap of Bill’s fingers, the bowtie was around Dipper’s neck.

Dipper sighed in relief. “Great. If we hurry, we should still make it in time.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem.”

“What do you – ” Bill slung an arm around Dipper. What happened next reminded Dipper of a joke his uncle appreciated.

‘What’s it like being drunk?’

‘Ask a glass of water.’

In that moment, Dipper was the glass of water. The next moment he was aware of being in the church, making gasping vomit sounds purely out of habit.

“Exhilarating, huh, Pine Tree?”

“That is a word for it. ‘Sickening’ is another.”

Bill looked at him, then shrugged. “Oh, right. Humans aren’t used to teleportation.”

Dipper regained control of himself and decided against answering that.

The two of them were the first ones in the church, Bill floating over to gawk at the open casket. Dipper let him, figuring it was either bothering his corpse or bothering him.

Mabel, his parents, and Stan were the next to arrive. Then came Wendy and Soos. Mabel ran up to them when they walked in together, both dressed in formal black.

She hugged them both. “Guys, it’s been so long!”

Soos gave a chuckle. “Hey, Mabel. How’s it hanging?”

She gave them a genuine smile. “I’m doing slightly better. You guys?”

Soos grinned. “Stan gave us time off until tomorrow.”

Wendy gave a weak grin. “Yeah, and I’ve been using that time to think.” She shrugged. “Sorry I haven’t been around to see any of you, but I needed to be alone for a while.”

Mabel’s face turned serious. “I understand. I’m just sorry I’m leaving today, so I won’t be around when you’re back.”

“You’re leaving as well?” Wendy let out a sigh. “Seems everyone’s doing that one way or another.”

“Wendy…” Dipper floated over and put his hand on her forearm in a comforting gesture. But when she didn’t acknowledge it, he let it fall away and she walked through him.

Dipper took a deep breath and reminded himself of his decision to move on after the bunker. Even if he had no chance of a rebound crush now.

Grenda and Candy walked in as well, and last to arrive was Pacifica. None of them had been particularly close to him, so they must have been here to support Mabel.

Then the reverend came up to speak, and Dipper was bored to tears. Maybe it was just never interesting to hear someone talk about your life, but Dipper suspected it was the soporific way he spoke. He talked too slowly and dully to engage his audience, and

Dipper wondered if anyone had ever died of boredom at the funerals he conducted, leading to a need for more funerals. Maybe it was a strategy of the reverend’s to drum up business.

Even Bill seemed to notice it. “I was a better reverend than this.”

“I’m pretty sure this reverend’s never killed anyone,” Dipper said, despite the turn his thoughts had been taking.

“As I said, better.”

Dipper didn’t disagree further, hoping it would shut Bill up.

It didn’t.

“Why do humans bury people in boxes anyway? It can’t be a preventive measure against zombies – even with those noodle arms you’d break through the wood.”

“And why do the boxes have to be made of wood, anyway? Do you humans just need the satisfaction of taking a tree out with you when you go?”

“And what about –”

“Bill. Could you please shut up for my eulogy?”

Bill, surprisingly enough, did so. Dipper almost wished he hadn’t, since the alternative to listening to Bill was listening to the reverend. Fortunately, he was winding down his spiel.

“… and now we can proceed to the funeral procession. If everyone would please stand up and follow the members of the family.”

Mabel and his mother were the first to stand as mortuary workers came in through a side door. They shut the lid on his casket before wheeling it out the doors.

Everyone followed it outside, Dipper and Bill bringing up the rear. Sensing another round of rapid-fire commentary, Dipper decided to pre-empt Bill. “Hey, can I ask a question?”

There was a pause as Bill’s eye considered him. The reverend’s voice of “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” filled in the hole (as the other hole of Dipper’s grave was filled in).

Then fireworks were jumping from Bill’s hand, screaming as they were set off. “Fire away, kid.”

Dipper had reactively floated back a few feet from the fireworks, and now tried to close the gap as casually as possible. “What did you mean when you wished me luck in trying to leave town?” He scrutinized the demon to catch any lie or half-truth.

Bill’s answer was immediate. “You see, Gravity Falls has this aura to it that makes it hospitable to the weird. But the aura only goes so far, and the weird doesn’t do well beyond it.” Here Bill shoved his cane near Dipper’s face for emphasis.

Dipper swatted the cane’s tip out of his face. “So we’re trapped in town as long as we are in the mindscape, then.”

“Indubitably.” The cane swerved back to boink Dipper on the nose. “Neither of us can leave town because of that reason.”

“And let me guess, there’s no way around it? Because if there was, there’s no way you wouldn’t have tried it by now.” Dipper noticed everyone was wandering away from his tombstone, milling now that the service part was over.

He waved a hand at Bill to follow him. “Come on, the funeral’s ending soon, and I’m not sticking around my grave any longer than I have to.” He began floating off without Bill. “So let’s just get this day over with.”

Bill lingered behind to admire the new headstone. ‘Dipper Pines’ it read, because Mabel had convinced their parents that Dipper hated his real name enough to not want to be buried under it.

“Now, Pine Tree, I never said it wasn’t fixable.” He giggled before following after.

***

Dipper was glad the after-service didn’t last long – if it had, he was almost certain it would have devolved into embarrassing stories involving him in various costumes. As it was, his family had to cut out early to grab all their stuff before leaving.

The teleportation trip back to the shack wasn’t as unpleasant as his first trip had been. Still, Dipper let Bill keep his arm slung over his shoulder longer than he otherwise would have, trying to regain a sense of balance he no longer needed.

He pushed Bill’s arm off as he watched Mabel hug Waddles, whispering to him as she rubbed his back.

“… and don’t forget that onions make you gassy, so don’t overeat those while I’m gone.”

Waddles snuffled in acknowledgement. Mabel’s eyes watered up as she hugged him tighter. “I’m going to miss you so much,” she whispered almost too softly for Dipper to catch.

Grunkle Stan walked to where they were, carrying the last of Mabel’s bags. “Well, that’s everything. Unless you want to try to pack the bed.” A pause, as he glared at Mabel half-heartedly. “You’re not taking the bed, by the way.”

She giggled and stood up, giving Waddles a final pat. “Are you sure you can take care of him, Grunkle Stan?”

“Considering how he struggled with us? I’m skeptical,” Dipper muttered.

Bill, who had come to float beside him, giggled maniacally. Dipper’s head swerved to stare at him for a good fifteen seconds, thrown by someone laughing at something he said.

Stan shrugged at Mabel. “Considering how used I have gotten to the sounds of pitter-pattering feet and crashing noises over the past few weeks? A pig should fill the void nicely.”

That… that was almost touching, coming from Grunkle Stan.

“Grunkle Stan, are you okay? Your eye’s twitching.”

… and that was where the almost part came in. Dipper shook his head as Mabel left to say goodbye to her friends gathered by their parent’s rental car. “That pig’s going to be either breakfast or the shack’s newest exhibit.”

“Or both! Just think, Pine Tree. Announcing the latest, the greatest, the amazing were-bacon!”

To Bill’s credit, Dipper had to fight down a small smile, the kind he got when his sister was exasperating but endearing; even as he kept an eye out for howling, biting bacon spontaneously called into existence.

None appeared, though, and Dipper floated over to his sister’s side unmolested (save for the demon still following him, of course).

Grenda and Candy were by the car, Grenda crying as Candy patted her on the back. Mabel, however, was being accosted by Pacifica with a phone schedule.

“Now remember, I have violin practice and art lessons until six on Thursday, so don’t call any time before that.”

“Okay…”

“Fridays I’m free from three until five.”

“Got it.”

“And Saturdays I’m free from eleven until two. I have mini-golf practice before and singing practice after.”

Dipper’s eyebrow rose at the litany, extreme by _his_ standards. “Talk about your high-maintenance friendships.”

Mabel blew a stray bit of hair out of her face, only to have it reasserting its position in her face. “Look, Pacifica, is there any way to keep this simple?”

Pacifica put a finger to her chin. “Well, I suppose you could call the house to set up an appointment in advance.” She glared at Mabel. “That is, so long as you don’t forget to call at the appointed time, again.”

Mabel cringed. “Look, I’m sorry I blew you off for my sock puppet show… really, you have no idea how sorry I am about that. But I promise you that I’ll stay in touch.”

“You better. Don’t forget, I have people lined up just waiting to take your place.”

“Aw, could you ever really replace me?”

Pacifica didn’t answer. Instead, she let Mabel hug her, despite the pig smell that clung to her.

Their mother and father were waiting by the car. When Mabel showed no sign of breaking the hug, their father coughed unintrusively. “Mabel? We do need to hurry to catch our flight.”

“Right, right…” She gave Grenda and Candy a last group hug as well. “Don’t forget to call me! I’ll miss all of you so much!”

“We will miss you, too,” Candy said, as Grenda could only manage a nod through her tears.

After they broke the hug, Mabel climbed into the back of the car. Their mother and father got into the front and started the car. Mabel kept waving goodbye as the car drove off.

Though she couldn’t see him, Dipper waved back, and kept waving until the car was out of sight. He sighed then; the low point of loneliness always came when you were watching someone leave and already missing them, rather than when you were entirely alone.

Bill was back, floating by his side again. “Well, Pine Tree, now that your life’s changed forever, what do you want to do next?”

The resulting glare was weak even by Dipper’s standards, and quickly morphed into a downcast look. “I don’t know.”

Bill grabbed Dipper’s hand. “I do!”

Before a protest could leave Dipper’s lips they were already teleporting away.

***

They arrived by the side of a dirt road, trees surrounding them in an area Dipper didn’t recognize. Dipper regained his sense of balance more quickly this time, and he realized that teleportation was something he could get used to. It was certainly more convenient than floating.

Then he realized that he was basically contemplating spending more time around Bill Cipher, and stopped that train of thought right there.

“Look, Pine Tree! We’re in the back woods of Gravity Falls! We should be able to see all sorts of strange creatures here!”

“Really?” Dipper examined his surroundings more carefully then, waiting for any of the strange creatures to jump out at them. “Seems kind of quiet, though.”

“Not for long.”

“What do you – ” But his question was cut off by another voice from behind them.

“Deputy, this day is just too beautiful. I think we might have to call it in.”

Dipper turned to see Officer Blubs and Deputy Durland reclining on the hood of their police car.

“Wow, Pine Tree, good eye! You spotted your first strange creatures!”

Well, Dipper couldn’t deny they were strange. But then, few people in this town weren’t.

“That’s not the kind of strange creatures I was hoping to see. Come on, there’s got to be something else around here.”

“Look! It’s the Ghost Shadow.”

Dipper stiffened to look at the Deputy, who in turn was looking at Dipper’s shadow. Did he just… could he…. ?

“Wow. It’s one of the seven wonders of Gravity Falls,” Officer Blubs said as he removed his sunglasses for a better look.

Beneath the realization that he had never seen Officer Blubs with his glasses off, not even at night, was another, deeper realization. People could see his shadow. A mad fluttering appeared in Dipper’s chest, despite his lack of a physical heart. Maybe it wasn’t hopeless for someone to see him…

“Well, look at him now!”

Dipper blinked, and looked at his shadow. He now appeared to have cat ears, because of the deputy.

“Oh, oh! Do deformed rabbit!”

Now there was what appeared to be a lopsided, neckless rabbit hopping its way toward his shadow. The flutter in his chest had turned into a solid weight. The not-bunny continued to hop about him as he watched the officers giggle.

“Sometimes this town depresses me greatly,” he said, more to himself than to anyone around him. He lacked the energy to even sigh.

“Oh, oh! Do spread eagle next – AAAHHHH!”

“AAAHHHH!”

Dipper swerved his neck to to see the shadow of a giant grinning wolf where the not-bunny had been. Out of the corner of his eyes he watched as the officers dove inside their car.

“Quick! Let’s go back to the station and put out an APB. A problematic Balto. Then it’s someone else’s problem.”

Then the car sped off. A cackling sound came from beside him. Dipper watched as Bill, who held his hand out in the shape of an L, made the wolf shadow sit back and howl.

Bill got his cackling under control enough to gasp out, “Wow, they’re right. Shadow puppets are fun.”

The laugh was startled out of Dipper before he had a chance to taper it down. It didn’t matter if he needed to laugh desperately, or if Bill’s laugh had been infectious – shame still flooded his entire being.

Bill’s eye crinkled up as he dispelled the wolf shadow. Only Dipper’s shadow was left, and that was fading away as well. “Well, Pine Tree, I think I scared away the strange creatures in this area, so this outing is ruined. Got any other ideas?”

He shouldn’t. Still, if he wanted to solve the mysteries of Gravity Falls, including the mystery of what Bill Cipher was up to, then his best bet was to get closer to the demon himself.

“Well, if it’s strange creatures you’re after, the movieplex is playing a monster movie. We could go see it.”

Bill’s thoughts ran along similar lines to Dipper, with closeness essential for his plans’ well-being. Aloud, he said, “And heckle it? Let’s do it!”

The demon took his hand again, and then they were in front of said movieplex. Teleportation did get easier with repetition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skim-edited this, so let me know if you see any glaring major flaws.


End file.
